’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. ” “Isn’t it. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. “Thank you. Wary they might be. ‘I’ve never before made love at pistol point.
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